


Fenders Appreciation One Shot Fics

by protect_him



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-28
Updated: 2019-03-27
Packaged: 2019-11-07 02:53:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17952293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/protect_him/pseuds/protect_him
Summary: A collection of one-shot works for giveaway prizes.





	1. January 2019: Are You Kitten Me?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TheTyphonSerpent](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheTyphonSerpent/gifts), [Cicide76536](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cicide76536/gifts).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the one shot for January's winner!
> 
> Accompanying art can be found here [on Goat's blog](http://the-goat-bazaar-of-art.tumblr.com/post/183121184079/this-is-for-typhonserpent-they-won-the-fenders)

Faint music spilled out of the Hanged Man as Fenris walked past. It would be much easier to stop there, find Isabela, have a drink, and forget about the coin in his pouch. But his feet didn’t slow, even as he thought of how pleasant it would be inside the bar. Fenris was on a mission. A personal mission.

Fenris pushed open the dark-painted door of the Hightown apothecary. As soon as Fenris stepped inside, a heavy, heady smell assaulted him. The apple-green paint peeled away revealing dingy woodwork that would make Darktown shine. Haphazard stacks of books tilted at precarious angles on sagging shelves. Several wilting potted plants sat among jars full of strange colored liquids. Fenris knew it was the best place to get potions, but the interior still seemed a bit run-down for Hightown. He wrinkled his nose and squinted around in the dark, letting his eyes adjust.

The young man behind the counter spotted him and immediately came forward to greet Fenris. Fenris stepped back, scowling, but the man pressed forward, smiling. His teeth were glowing in the dimly lit building. Fenris’s eyes had adjusted now and he saw the man’s hands waving excitedly.

“You look like a strong and able elf,” the man said, admiring Fenris’s armor and heavy sword.

Fenris grunted.

“Are you searching for anything in particular?” The man pressed.

Fenris grunted again, and walked off to look around. The man watched, his eyes squinting. If he was correct, this elf couldn’t read and would be an excellent candidate for getting rid of some potions he couldn’t sell to anyone else.

He gave the elf a few minutes to get comfortable before approaching again.

“I have a bargain that I do not offer to most clients,” the man said, his voice smooth as he bent behind the counter, producing a small tray.

“These are especially popular among my strong elven clients,” he wheedle. “My offer is two potions for the price of one.” He looked around conspiratorially as if to make sure no one else would overhear them. The shop was empty.

“What kind of potions are these?”

“Popular among warriors,” the man said. “I believe it will boost stamina, charm, and speed. I don’t offer this deal to many, but I make an exception for you.”

Fenris grunted and looked over the potions.

“How much do you ask?”

“They are very powerful,” the man said thoughtfully. “I generally sell them for twelve gold apiece, but I can give you two for ten, and I will give you an elfroot potion as well, for free.” He smiled.

It sounded like a good deal. Fenris didn’t know exactly what these potions were, but the salesman didn’t seem to know either. He only knew that they were powerful, and helpful in battle. He couldn’t read the labels on the bottles. He could barely even count out the correct number of coins.

He counted out ten and handed them over to the man, who gleefully packed the two glass bottles into a small straw-packed crate, along with a third green elfroot potion.

He thanked Fenris for his business, still smiling brightly. The man smiled too much, it made Fenris’s skin crawl. He smiled even more than Anders did, and Anders smiled a lot. But never at him. Fenris wished he would sometimes. He felt a bit left out.

Fenris held the crate close as he hurried back to his mansion. He would try one of these potions the next time he went out with Hawke.

His chance came sooner than expected when the next afternoon Hawke came to call him on an emergency mission to Darktown. Fenris slipped one of the bulbous purple potion jars into his pouch and they headed out.

Just before heading down into the slums, Fenris dropped behind the group, pulled out the potion, and downed it in one swallow. He coughed once and tucked the bottle away.

Anders glanced back at him, but otherwise no one noticed. Anders seemed to be giving him an odd look. Fenris glared back.

“What?” He demanded.

Anders shrugged.

“You feeling alright?”

“Of course,” Fenris replied. “Why would you care?”

“Why wouldn’t I care?”

Fenris rolled his eyes and hurried after Hawke.

They found the bandits they’d been sent to eliminate much easier to take care of than anticipated, and it was shortly after when they were on their way back to visit the Hanged Man. Fenris frowned at the sudden headache that he’d gotten. He hadn’t noticed any difference in his fighting and was irritated that he had wasted his potion on such an easy fight. He hadn’t needed it at all. He would need to save the second one and take it on one of their trips to the Wounded Coast. Those were always exhausting and he could use the stamina boost.

“I’m going to skip the celebratory drinking this time,” Fenris said, hardly pausing on his way back to his mansion.

“You sure you’re alright?” Anders asked. “You never skip.”

“Of course,” Fenris said. “I’m merely tired and my head aches.”

“If it persists, you’re welcome to come to the clinic,” Anders said. “I won’t be here long, so if you don’t feel well later, you can come to the clinic and I’ll look into it.”

“I’m sure that won’t be necessary,” Fenris said. He turned on his heel and stalked off. His head hurt much worse now and he stomped up his rotting steps to collapse on his sunken mattress. Any of the others would turn up their noses in disgust at the state of Fenris’s bed, but he found he kind of liked the way it dipped in the middle to create a spot just the right size for him to curl up in. He couldn’t stretch out, but he could snuggle up under his blanket. He did so now, burying his nose in the crease of his elbow to keep it warm in the chill that sank through the hole in his ceiling.

He woke several hours later, feeling groggy and oddly lightheaded. Fenris crawled out of his bed nest and stumbled to the bathroom. He splashed cold water from the basin onto his face. As he reached up to run his fingers through his hair, he stopped cold. There was something very wrong. Some kind of soft and warm membrane stuck up through his hair on either side. Had he been poisoned? Drugged? Nothing had even touched him during the fight with the bandits. He _had_ to be hallucinating.

There was a mirror in another room. Fenris never went there, but he felt he needed to now. He had to ram his shoulder against the door before it came unstuck and swung open on creaking hinges. The room stank of musty curtains, damp wood, and his former master’s heady cologne. Even after all this time, the smell still clung to the room. Fenris wrinkled his nose and strode across the room. His hip bumped a dresser and a bottle of cologne fell crashing to the floor. Fenris grabbed the standing mirror, dragging it towards the door. He stepped on the broken glass, but ignored it. The mirror shook and slammed against his shoulder as he awkwardly dragged it out of the room.

There was a sconce on the wall in the bathroom. Fenris dragged the mirror into the room and fumbled with the flint until he could light it. His hands were shaking and he was afraid to turn and look at himself. When he did, his breath caught.

White furry cat ears stuck out from under his hair. He felt something tickle the back of his knees. Looking down in the mirror, he saw a white tail flicking behind him as well. A hand to the small of his back and slid downwards revealed that the tail was connected to his own body. Fenris doused the light and fled the room, diving back into his bed. Surely he was dreaming.

He was only able to close his eyes for a few minutes before he felt for the ears again. They were still there. He pinched one and felt a sharp pain. He was very much awake and everything he’d seen was really there. Fenris’s mind raced and his heart pounded. He couldn’t sleep.

“Fasta vass,” he hissed, scrambling out of bed again. He ignored the pain in his foot and yanked on his tunic. He swore again as he wrestled the white tail into his leggings. He had no hats or even a cloak to cover his head. A quick dig through his former master’s chests brought up a gaudy cloak with a wide hood that would easily cover the horrifying abominations on his head.

It would do.

Fenris pulled it over his shoulders. He couldn’t wear his armor under the cloak, so he wore only his tunic, leggings, his sword on his hip, and the cloak. That would hide any sign of the tail on his backside as well.

Fortunately it was raining, so Fenris’s cloak wouldn’t draw any more attention than its ridiculous foreign colors would garner to begin with. He hurried to Darktown and Anders’s clinic. If anyone knew what was happening, Anders would.

He knocked loudly at the door of the clinic. Anders was probably asleep, so when he heard no answer immediately, he began knocking again, muttering under his breath. He was midway through rapping on the door, when it opened and Fenris’s hand stopped in midair as he looked up at the mage.

Anders’s hair glowed in the light coming out of the clinic behind him, like tall grass catching the golden rays of a sunset. Anders’s face was anything but glowing, though. He looked exhausted.

“I-I have a problem,” Fenris said, trying to push into the clinic. Anders stayed firm and didn’t let him pass.

“Is this really something so pressing that you must interrupt my work on my manifesto?” He grumbled.

“Would you turn away anyone else who came to you?” Fenris demanded, admittedly hurt that Anders didn’t think his problems worth tending to at this hour.

Anders’s mouth twisted and his hand clutched harder at the door frame. He finally sighed and backed away from the doorway, allowing Fenris to enter.

“All right,” he said. “I do consider you a friend, even if you insist on disagreeing with everything I say.”

“I do _not_ disagree with everything,” Fenris retorted.

Anders closed the clinic door and only then noticed Fenris’s too-large cloak. He sputtered a laugh.

“If you’re trying to develop a fashion sense,” he said, “I might suggest finding things that fit first.”

“You’re one to talk,” Fenris retorted, frowning, “you wear a coat held together with bare thread and dusted with bird feathers.”

Anders snorted.

“Alright, tell me what’s troubling you.”

Fenris was suddenly hesitant.

“Come on.” Anders was beginning to get exasperated. “It’s the middle of the night. I’d like to get this over with.”

Fenris scraped his hand down over his face and sighed, then pushed back his hood.

Anders’s jaw dropped. He stared.

“Well,” Fenris demanded, glaring back at him. “What happened to me?”

“What _happened_? Fenris, these kinds of things don’t just happen. Did you do something? What did you do?” He didn’t move any closer, just stared at Fenris’s head.

“I don’t know.”

“I think you do know. What did you do? Did you drink a potion without knowing what it was?”

“Are you throwing accusations at me?”

Anders pinched the bridge of his nose.

“I don’t have much patience tonight,” he said. He was also trying to desperately ignore how cute Fenris looked. “A change to your body like this doesn’t just happen randomly. You had to have taken something or be the recipient of a spell—which seems unlikely. The more you tell me, the better I can help.”

“I bought a couple potions yesterday,” Fenris began. “The man selling them told me they were for fighting. He claimed that he sells them often to warriors.”

“Did you happen to bring one with you?” Anders asked him. “Probably not,” he answered himself.

“I think it is still in my pouch,” Fenris said, reaching to pull the jar from his belt. He handed it to Anders, who turned it over to read the label.

His face was solemn for a moment, and then he burst out laughing.

“Fenris,” Anders wheezed and doubled over, covering his face with his hand. “This isn’t for fighting at all. Someone really pulled one over on you.”

Fenris frowned.

“What do you mean? The man explicitly told me—”

“He lied to you, Fenris. “Didn’t you even look at the label? Don’t roll your eyes at me! It’s labelled clearly. Exotic feline ears and tail potion.”

“And it’s written there is it?” Fenris retorted. Anders shoved the jar at him, showing the label for him to read. “That would sure help if I could read, wouldn’t it?” Fenris nearly shouted.

Anders’s arm didn’t move, but his expression softened with realization.

“Fenris, I… you…”

“Yes, I’m illiterate,” Fenris fumed, looking away. “Mock me all you want.”

“Why would I mock you for that?” Anders said. He turned and dropped the bottle onto his work table. “Here, let me look at them.” He stretched one hand for Fenris’s head.

Fenris took a hesitant step back, but controlled himself and stopped to let Anders touch one of the cat ears.

“It’s very soft.”

“Can you get rid of them?”

“Do you have the tail too?”

Fenris’s mouth quirked into a momentary scowl, then he fumbled behind himself to pull the tail out of his leggings. He held it awkwardly in his hand.

“How do I fix it? Can you use your magic to take them away?”

“It’s an exotic potion,” Anders said, as if that explained everything. He shrugged. “It wears off on its own after about six hours or so. It’s actually a pretty complex potion, and difficult to make, as it only starts working after sunset unless you take more than one at a time. I can’t do anything about it.”

“So, that’s it then?” Fenris questioned. “I just wait a few hours and they disappear?” the mage inclined his head. “I came here for nothing?”

“Well, unless you want something else?”

“You want something?” Fenris’s voice was a challenge.

Anders ran a hand through his hair and down his neck, laughing nervously.

“It’s been a few years now,” Anders said. “You and I have had a lot of words, not many of them pleasant, but I’m a bit tired of that, you know? I don’t think anyone else likes to listen to us argue. I don’t like arguing, and I don’t even really feel like it’s necessary anymore. It’s just habit at this point, and I’d rather be friends now.”

Fenris blushed, his face opening up with surprise.

“Friends?”

“Friends,” Anders repeated, his smile less nervous.

Fenris hesitated, and ducked his head. He finally received the smile he wanted and he couldn’t handle it. His ears burned as the blush spread across his face. “I...I would like that. I would like being friends, starting over.” His tail twitched upward, earning a laugh from Anders. It did nothing to reduce his bashfulness.

“Maker, I’m going to miss that tail,” he snickered. “Look, why don’t you stay for a bit? I have milk that I put out for strays.”  
  
Fenris scowled. “Fool mage,” but his voice carried no heat and he gingerly sat down.  
  
Anders grinned wide. “I hear your words, but your _tail_ says otherwise.”

And when Fenris hissed his displeasure, Anders’s laughter echoed around them.


	2. February 2019: Signed, Aggregio

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anders returns home from work to find a message on his anonymous online account.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A gift for Cici, who was our second winner for our February Fenders giveaway! I hope you like this, I loved writing it!

Anders’s alarm played loudly. His arm slammed down on his phone. The song continued and he groaned, tossing his head to look at the screen and jab his finger at the snooze icon. The couch in the break room at the Hanged Man was so arsed comfortable. Several more minutes and he knew he had to get back to work. He had four more hours before the Hanged Man would close and the remaining patrons would empty into the street. And Anders would go home and make coffee.

“You look absolutely ragged, dearest,” Isabela crooned when she saw him. Anders rolled his eyes and fixed his hair.

“I was just napping,” Anders grumbled. “No one looks nice when they just woke up.”

“I do,” Isabela said, sliding closer to him and angling her hips. “I look like _a dream_.”

“I’m sure you do,” Anders said, grabbing at a glass from the dishwasher and scrubbing at it with a towel. He slammed it down on the shelf and reached for another. Isabela looked past him at the bar she was supposed to be tending and her eyes widened as she smiled sweetly.

“Hold that thought,” she said. “I think I got a date.” Anders huffed and the second glass joined the first on the shelf.

“Hey, honey, how can I help you?” Isabela’s rich voice rolled off her lips. She was luscious, but somehow she didn’t tempt Anders. Not with the memories of Karl haunting him every night.

“Aggregio,” A rough voice replied. A lovely Tevinter accent. The Hanged Man didn’t see many ‘Vints. Anders resisted the impulse to turn around. He was still groggy from his nap.

When he finally did finish with the glasses, he turned around and his eyes immediately flew to the owner of the Tevinter accent. Not a well-dressed man as Anders had expected, but a lean elf with white hair and bright markings on his skin. Anders had seen white tattoos, but these were not tattoos. The elf caught him staring and met his gaze with a challenging stare of his own.

Anders approached. He was too tired to avoid confrontation. Varric could yell at him later, Anders’s inhibitions had been left in the break room.

“Is there a problem?” That deep voice scraped up Anders’s spine, and he _really_ liked it.

“How’s the Aggregio?” Anders asked lightly, giving the elf an easy smirk. Those delicate _gorgeous_ fingers stroked the stem of the wine glass. The elf had perfect hands. And beautiful eyes, sad eyes.

“It is not easy to find Aggregio here,” the elf said.

“I insisted that we carry it, actually,” Anders said. “I don’t drink much wine, but I always choose Aggregio.”

The elf didn’t look like he believed him. Isabela appeared next to him and nudged him gently aside with her hip. She leaned over the bar and cupped her chin in her palms. The elf’s fingers tightened ever so slightly on the wine glass and he looked away from the low sweeping arc of her top. He looked at Anders for a moment, and then away from him as well.

The elf wasn’t here to talk. Many people weren’t. Anders could respect that. He moved to the other end of the bar, where a couple of women had come in and were discussing what drinks they wanted.

The elf was still there hours later when the women left and Anders stifled a jaw-cracking yawn. He hadn’t been talkative at all, and was still nursing his second glass of wine.

“We close soon,” Anders informed him. “It’s getting pretty late.”

The elf nodded and downed the rest of his wine. He paid for his drinks and left without another word.

“You’re hopeless,” Isabela said, frowning at him.

“You didn’t expect to hook up with someone like that?” Anders snorted.

“ _Someone like that_ ,” Isabela retorted, “is easily within the range of people who would want to sleep with me.” But then she just smiled sweetly and pinched Anders’s cheek. “Probably much more likely to sleep with me than you right now. Haven’t you been sleeping?”

Anders rubbed his cheek.

“Not much,” he admitted sourly.

“Well, give it a try,” Isabela said. “It would do you good.”

Anders waved her off and went to lock up the bar.

He arrived home and turned on his laptop and the dim lights in his back room in preparation to film himself. It was his way of coping with his loss of Karl. The short videos and images of himself were sensual, but he was never nude and never showed his face. He heated up a pre-packaged noodle bowl and sat down in front of his laptop, logging in to the few sites he used most frequently.

Most of them had plenty of messages, things he barely glanced over before deleting. One message caught his eye, though.

_I do not know what troubles you, but I am truly sorry. I can see the pain in your eyes. Perhaps this will be unwelcome, and if so, please ignore my message, but I would like to be there for you. Can I see you? We can watch a movie together. I make pretty good pasta, if I can find my pans. I’m unpacking. I apologize. I saw you and I would like to help, if you would allow me._

The message was signed: _Aggregio_.

Anders only stared for several minutes. He felt too numb from the coffee to fully realize what this meant. The elf from the bar? How had he found Anders? _Why_? The part that shocked Anders most was that he was actually considering it. He rubbed his face. He must really be losing it. He typed a short reply.

_It’s a long story. And it’s complicated. Save yourself the trouble._

That should do it.

He went to the bathroom and changed into comfortable sweats and one of Karl’s old sweatshirts. When he returned, a new message waited in response to his reply.

_If you want to say no, I understand. But I have the time and I’m willing to listen._

Anders huffed and turned off the studio lights he used for his photography. He wasn’t in the mood to put on lingerie and do a photo shoot tonight. He sat back down to respond.

_I must be going crazy. Let me get this straight. You want to come over and …_

He waited, and the reply was only a minute coming.

_Talk. Listen. Make you pasta. Maybe watch a film. Nothing more._

Was there some sinister undercurrent? Would this man come over and rob him? Beat him up? Anders didn’t even know this elf, and it was a little strange that the elf knew him. Though since he apparently knew Anders through his sensual photography, the elf had probably seen some of the things Anders had said in addition to his photos. Anders didn’t think he’d given away any personal information. His curiosity got the better of him. He sent his phone number.

He quickly got a text.

_My name is Fenris. Spaghetti or fettuccine alfredo?_

There was no going back now. And now Anders had a name.

_Fettuccini. Coffee?_

And then he sent his address. The reply came pretty quickly.

_Yes please to the coffee. It’ll probably be 20-30 minutes._

Anders shut off his laptop and closed the door to his studio. His two cats were both asleep on the couch. They both gave him reproachful stares as he yanked away the rumpled blanket and ran to fetch a clean one. He swept the junk mail off the coffee table and hid it in a drawer in the bureau by the kitchen door. Luckily, the floor didn’t look too dirty. He scanned the kitchen next. He shoved the days of dirty dishes into the dishwasher and scrubbed out the dirty sink. He tossed the coffee grinds in the trash bag and quickly ran out the back door to stuff it in the trash bin.

Once the instant coffee was tucked far back in the cupboard, he took out the coffee beans Merrill had given him last month and ground up enough to make them several cups of coffee each. He started the coffee maker and was in the bathroom washing his hands and trying to quickly clean off the counter and sink when he heard a soft knock at the door. His heart skipped.

If he was going to get murdered, this would be the time for it.

He opened the door, and there was the elf. Fenris. He was shorter than Anders had realized, and his white hair glowed from beneath his dark hoodie. Anders stared for a moment before realizing that Fenris’s arms were full. He had everything he’d need to make the pasta, all the way down to the spoons and pot. Paper plates even in a fabric bag. And tucked under his arm...flowers?

“I have a pot,” Anders said, his tongue sticking to the roof of his mouth. He swallowed nervously, but the elf just smiled sheepishly.

“I thought I’d play it safe,” he said, then his voice drifted off, leaving an awkward silence between them.

“Oh! Come on in,” Anders stepped back, opening the door wide. “The kitchen is this way,” he gestured. “Coffee is brewing.”

“It smells nice,” Fenris said, pausing in the entry to slip off his shoes politely.

“Here, let me take the pot,” Anders said, reaching for it.

“Thank you.” Fenris took the flowers from under his arm and followed Anders. “I apologize, I didn’t bring a vase for these.”

He pronounced vase in a foreign accent. It sounded so exotic. Luckily, Fenris was looking at the flowers and didn’t see Anders’s stare.

“I think I’ve got one,” Anders said, putting the pot on the stove and ducking his head in the cupboard under the sink. “Here we go. I haven’t used this in a while.” He laughed nervously.

Fenris seemed immediately comfortable in Anders’s kitchen. He pulled the scissors from Anders’s knife block and trimmed the flower stems before dropping them into the vase and centering it on the small island in Anders’s spacious kitchen.

Fenris was good at cooking. Karl had been good at cooking too—thus the big kitchen. Soon they had pasta on Karl’s pink and white plates and coffee in giant mugs shaped like mythical animals and were settling on opposite ends of the couch.

“So, movie?” Anders asked.

“Sure,” Fenris said, then looked bashful. “I didn’t actually get your name,” he said quietly.

Anders blushed. He was a total idiot.

“Anders,” he stammered quickly. “Anders. Sorry, Fenris, nice to meet you. It’s been…” he sighed. “I’m an idiot.”

Fenris just laughed softly, easing the tension.

“This isn’t really conventional, I know.”

Feeling a bit better, Anders put in a movie. Fenris insisted he didn’t care what they watched so Anders picked one of his favorites.

By the time the film was halfway over, they weren’t watching anymore. With soft questions, Fenris had coaxed Anders into talking about his troubles, and there were many. It felt good to talk about them to someone who didn’t know Karl and Anders when they were together. Fenris listened attentively, not speaking or trying to offer advice, as many of Anders’s well-meaning friends had done.

The credits were playing as Anders finished, wiping his eyes. They both had coffee refills and were full of pasta. Fenris had relaxed more over the last couple hours and had a soft blanket pulled over his legs.

Anders coughed politely and chuckled.

“Sorry I just talked all through the movie,” he said, wiping his eyes.

“That’s why we put it in,” Fenris said. “Did it help?”

With a quirk of his lips, Anders gave a lopsided-grin. He glanced aside, a faint blush coloring his cheeks.

“Yeah, it helped. Do you mind if I put in another movie?”

Fenris shook his head and drained his coffee as Anders got up to put in another of his favorites.

As the next movie started, Fenris cleared his throat and asked if Anders wanted a hug. Anders sniffled and nodded before crawling over next to Fenris. It was a bit of an awkward hug, but Anders twisted and found a better position, wrapping his arms around the elf and pressing his face into his shoulder.

Fenris let Anders stay there until Anders pulled away.

“You’re pretty good at that,” Anders said, settling into the couch next to Fenris. “Why did you offer to come over anyway?”

“You looked like you needed company.” Fenris shrugged and Anders didn’t press him further.

The movie went on and Anders slumped closer to Fenris until his head dropped onto his shoulder. He was quickly asleep. Fenris sank a little to get comfortable against the couch cushion, and then leaned his head back, sighing. To be honest, he followed _mage_ass_ online because he took beautiful sensual photos of his body, but when he saw that ass in the Hanged Man and then the face that accompanied it, he could tell that this man needed something more. And Fenris believed that Anders’s face and personality were even more appealing than his body, now that he’d met him. Maybe this hug could turn into something more, maybe someday.

For now, it seemed that Anders could use a friend. They both could.

 


End file.
